


Be My Baby

by Yuu_no_hu



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Cussing in front of babies, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Heavy Angst, I swear to god I will name the baby eventually, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Not Canon Compliant, Not Really Light Angst, Omega Jason, Past Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Past Relationship(s), Rating will go up later, Sarcasm, Sass, Slow Burn, Spoiler Alert: We All Know Who The Father Is, Timelines? What are Timelines, Unplanned Pregnancy, Whoops Who's The Father AU, brief oc appearances, mentions of sex pollen, we just don't know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yuu_no_hu/pseuds/Yuu_no_hu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do with a surprise pregnancy? A baby? </p><p>Honestly, Jason's more concerned about who he's going to get to babysit her while he takes care of the city and how he's supposed to get any sleep when his night job takes up so much time and the kid wakes up hungry at dawn. </p><p>Single parenting is hard, but he's not ready to tell anyone about it yet, much less the kid's probably-father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Baby, What A Big Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Technically there are hints of dub con and statutory due to the nature of the kid's conception, along with brief mentions of infertility, but it's not going to be the focus of the story, I'm planning on making this shit fluffy, but I wanted to leave a warning in case that squicks you out. 
> 
> Story title is from Ariana Grande/Cashmere Cat's song by the same name.
> 
> un-betad. Later chapters beta'd by 13thMuse

The thing that people always forgot, well, didn’t so much forget as misunderstand, was exactly how much coming back to life and being dumped in the lazarus pit had affected him, fucked with his head, his body and his hormones in ways that he was still figuring out for himself. 

So, somehow, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he, half-way across the country, found himself getting sick for absolutely no reason that he could figure out, which was fucking scary. 

 

What was scarier was the results of the tests he ran, particularly because they listed him as pregnant.  
Which wasn’t possible. 

It absolutely, one-hundred percent was not possible, he hadn’t had any sort of sex that could get him pregnant in… years.  
Hell, he’d been so careful after he came back because of the ‘little’ incident that came a short while before his death… He had to stop and think about it. 

 

He hadn’t shared a heat with anyone (save Talia after he’d come back, but she was careful and female alphas couldn’t impregnate male omegas unless they damn well intended to) since before his death. 

It wasn’t like he could have anyone so much as knowing the Red Hood’s designation, much less so intimately. 

He didn’t need sex that much anyway, he wasn’t obligated to sleep with anyone, no matter how attractive he found them and suppressants existed for a reason, so his heats weren’t really a problem.

 

Hell, the only reason why it had happened before was because the robin costume didn’t do shit against Ivy’s weird ass sex pollens and it had thrown him into a nasty heat even after he’d gotten the antidote and being trapped with golden, perfect Alpha Dick Grayson hadn’t particularly helped in that matter. 

He was fairly certain that the other had repressed the memory in a little box labeled ‘things that I’m going to pretend didn’t happen with the people I claim to feel platonic/brotherly love towards’, which, well; that sort of thing had been happening long before Jason came into the picture, and he had no doubt that they had continued to happen since.  
They all did what needed to be done, and then forgot about it. Usually. 

It wasn't like he ever thought about the bastard, romantically, or anything. Ever.  
He could be forgiven for checking out that ass, because everyone did that, but he didn't ever think about sharing a _real_ heat with him. Nope. 

 

~

 

The retests, and the retests of the retests all told him the same thing; either his testing equipment was faulty, which was his preferred answer, or he was actually pregnant.

 

So he ignored it, working through the case that had brought him out to the city of whatever and planting himself very firmly in denial. 

If he maybe stopped drinking and cut back on coffee, then there was no one around to know. 

 

And if not knowing drove him to distraction until he finally walked into a local clinic with a fake ID, then he surely couldn’t be blamed for that.  
Anyone would want to double check, just to make sure. 

Even though it really couldn’t be a true possibility. 

 

~

 

It turned out to be a good thing that he had gone, because his medical equipment wasn’t as faulty as he’d been hoping for.

 

He did have a kid, and it was further along than he’d suspected (although not as old as it would be if it actually came from any occasion of sexual intercourse on his part) and suddenly he wasn’t quite sure what was real anymore.

He couldn’t be pregnant, it simply wasn’t possible.

Hell, he’d half convinced himself that he was infertile, whether naturally or from something that he’d come in contact with over the years, maybe even from the pit even though that wasn’t logical. 

 

He didn’t know jack-shit about pregnancy or childbirth, much less what the hell he was going to do about it, looking at the doctor with a stare that he refused to admit was wide-eyed, biting his tongue to keep back the curses in his mouth and wondering what the hell he was going to do with a _baby_.

Because he wasn’t going to give it up, he couldn’t. It just, it wouldn’t feel right.

 

~

 

He let himself be convinced to stay in town for a while, just until he regained his equilibrium.  
Just until he knew what he was going to do.

Partially because it was a doctor that had put up with him snapping and refusing to cooperate without quitting, and partially because it made it less likely that anyone he knew would track him down and find out. 

He wasn’t even sure how he was going to handle it, he didn’t have the energy to try and figure out how anyone else would react to his sudden maternal status. 

Then again, he could feel the disappointed bat-gaze already.

 

From what he understood, the pregnancy had gone into a sort of freeze mode after the child had been conceived (too much lazarus, too much rage and unhealthy actions for a growing fetus to survive) and waited until his… _something_ stabilized enough for him to sustain the pregnancy to full term.

Which. It was the sort of crazy ass thing that would end up happening to him, so he didn’t even know why he was surprised anymore. 

 

But, the more he learned about what was going on with his body, about how much it all would entail, the more he started (panicking) worrying.

There was literally no way for him to have a natural birth, his body wasn’t capable of doing that, so a C-section was going to be his best bet. 

Which was. _Why_. How had male omegas even existed before modern medicine? There was no fucking logical explanation for why nature had decided to create them. 

Jesus christ, at least some people had the proper reproductive biology to produce and carry a child to term, but a lot of male omegas had the sort of body that simply couldn’t do that.

 

He wound up renting an apartment, just for a little while, once the week long trip starting looking like it was going to last a couple of months.  
Because he couldn’t bring himself to think about going home, not yet.

And no one managed to track him down either (or they just didn’t bother to try and follow him, which was more likely) and he had absolutely no doubts that his turf would have gone absolutely to hell by the time he got back.

 

But then, a few months later, after endless appointments and weird ass health-care routines that just didn’t make any sense to him and his silent freak-outs when the baby _moved_ inside of him; eventually he gave up on pretending that he wasn’t carrying on full conversations with the bump, mostly joking but… He didn’t always believe that they were completely one-sided either.

It all lead up to him waking up in a shitty hospital cot, on more pain medication than he took when he got shot and with a squalling child being placed into his arms, held up by hands that were far more accustomed to holding weapons than to holding children and he’d never admit it, but something inside of him _ached_ at the thought that the child was already cursed; damned to have the him as a parent, the infamous Red Hood, a murderer, the undead former robin.

Hell knew how much of the things he’d done had affected the kid (how much fear gas had mixed in with Gotham’s drinking water over the years? Did the Lazarus ever really leave your system? Had he taken a blow to the gut before he’d known he was pregnant that might have hurt it?)

What kind of legacy could he leave to a child other than the weight of the destruction that he’d wreaked? 

That was a depressing thought. 

When he thought about it like that, he hated that she was going to grow up in a world where people like him were necessary, but it wasn’t like he could do much about that. 

So, ultimately, his question was; what the hell was he going to do with a kid?


	2. Ooh Ooh Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back home and now what? Babies are weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baby.
> 
> There's a little bit more substance in this chapter. 
> 
> Mentions of male lactation.
> 
> Un-betad and I'm too sleepy to do a proper editing job rn, so that'll probably happen later.

He gave himself until his eight week checkup and he was semi-fit for travel before he left town, which he quickly realized was easily three times as difficult with a newborn.

 

He got back to gotham a week later, exhausted and ready to just pass out but the baby, he still hadn’t given her a real name, needed milk and a diaper change and was going to scream until he got off his ass and _took care of it_. 

“I can’t believe you” he told the child while she slept, laid down in the middle of his bed and boxed in by pillows, her face still blotchy and red from crying “I literally don’t believe you; why are you here?” He asked, feeling about ready to cry himself. 

He was used to going without sleep but he felt like he hadn’t slept at all in months, not since he’d found out. 

So, finally home, finally _safe_ , he stripped down, curling up on the mattress next to the child after checking all of the locks and alarms to make sure that they were set.  
It wasn’t one of his ‘known’ safe houses, but you could never let down your guard in Gotham. 

 

He woke up at dawn, a little bit more rested and being beckoned by chubby hands and quiet gurgling sounds, thankfully not wailing and screaming but determined to have his attention nonetheless.

He propped himself up on his elbow, reaching over to poke a soft cheek “what do you want, brat?” he asked as the baby grabbed onto his finger and, instead of being offended, pulled it into her mouth. 

It was hardly the first time that she’d done that trick but he still found himself smiling as she did her best to engulf both of their hands in her mouth.  
“Somehow, I don’t think that that’s going to work” he said, carefully pulling his hand away and getting a quiet “huaahh” in response before she contented herself by only stuffing her own fist into her mouth, making quiet, wet sounds and watching with wide grey-blue eyes as Jason pulled on a faded teeshirt before leaning down to scoop the infant into his arms, earning an eager shriek as he walked towards the kitchen and the bulging bag of baby supplies that he’d dumped onto the kitchen counter the previous night, too tired to unpack it.

 

Putting together a bottle was an interesting test on his one-handed multitasking abilities and something that he was still getting the hang of.

 

“You need a name, brat” he told the baby as she sucked on the bottle, her little fists trying to take it from him despite the fact that she wouldn’t be able to hold onto it if he did let go, much less keep it at the angle needed for her to actually get any milk out of it. 

While he said that, his mind was still blank.  
Naming things had never been his strong point. 

 

“Maybe I should just get a goddamn blood test and dump you on whoever the hell _they_ are, see how they like it” he muttered, feeling irritable and making the baby blink up at him slowly, still sucking on the bottle as Jason bounced carefully on his feet, partially to keep his energy up because he was exhausted and partially because the kid seemed to like it sometimes. 

Eventually, she pushed the mostly empty bottle away, squalling for a minute while Jason muttered “ _shit_ ” and tried to figure out what it was that she wanted before she decided to settle down again for no reason that he could discern, fingers curling into his shirt as he set the bottle on the counter, carefully petting the back of her head and once again realizing exactly how fucking small babies were. 

His hand dwarfed her head, gun callouses rough on dark, peach fuzz hair, reminding him that if he were a _normal_ omega, and god how he spat that word, he’d be better equipped for this.  
It was supposed to be the alpha who didn’t know what they were doing, that made the baby seem out of place in their arms because the child just looked so natural with its mother. 

Jason wasn’t that. He was rough and awkward in comparison to the tiny, dark haired girl in his arms and he was absolutely certain that either of the two possible parents (unless there was something else in play, magic or someone’s evil plot to do whatever) would be able to handle the child more easily than he did. 

Then again, Talia’s kid was Damian and Jason was hoping that he hadn’t given birth to a female version of Damian, because one of them was more than enough. He hoped.  
But she’d still know better what to do with a baby.

Dick would probably be the perfect parent though, which was as depressing as it was disgustingly attractive. Ugh.

 

Jason watched as wide eyes slowly started to blink shut, a wide yawn leaving her tiny mouth as she started to drift off to sleep, wet mouth pressed against his chest. 

He put her back on the bed, making sure that the makeshift baby-area was still intact and after tugging a mostly gone sock back onto one of her feet, laying a soft blanket on top of her; pausing to watch her settle for a minute before making himself turn away because there were things that he needed to get done while she was down and watching her sleep was not one of them. 

 

First thing up, a shower; and if he left the door open so that he could hear anything from outside, than it was just as much to listen for intruders as for the baby waking up. Probably. 

 

Then came the more difficult task of making sure that there wasn’t anything lying around that she could hurt herself with if she got ahold of it.  
Which was really going to mean a complete overhaul of his weapons storage system but that was a task for a later date. 

He did manage to put away everything that he’d brought with him on his last case, throwing in a load of laundry that was only slightly blood-stained and was actually mostly made up of baby-things.  
It was weird to be spending more time washing out spit-up rather than scrubbing blood and gore out of the fabric of his clothes and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. 

After that, he sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed with his laptop in front of him and started catching himself up on the shit that he’d missed over the past few months that he’d been gone.  
Crime rates in his district had gone back up, which he’d anticipated, and people were speculating that he might have finally been picked off by one of the gang lords around. Which was stupid. 

 

Oracle had also hacked into his system and figured out where he was, probably to dispel the rumors of his untimely demise but no one had followed him out of town.  
Which he was glad for but it also probably meant that he was going to get a ‘friendly’ visit from someone now that he was back in town. 

He needed to get it on his terms, rather than having someone break in and find… The kid. 

He cursed under his breath, facing the problem all over again that he couldn’t just leave the baby alone while he went on patrol and he sure as hell couldn’t bring her with him.  
It left him with a dilemma, but one that he had all day to figure out. 

Half an hour later when the baby woke up screaming, he wasn’t really sure if he was more looking forward to the nice break that caving in scumbags faces would bring or worried how she would handle being separated from him. 

~

That evening he got dressed, ignoring the twinges in his abdomen and talking about his plans out loud in order to keep the gurgling baby occupied while he gathered up a bag of baby-supplies before leaving to drop her off at the apartment of the girl that he’d talked to earlier. 

Maggie Jard, the eighteen year old daughter of one of the less reputable cops on the force but a good kid. 

She did a lot of babysitting in the evening for people, so that they could go out and work the night shift; so having a vigilante drop off a baby at her night-care was probably not the weirdest thing that she’d ever seen.  
Or, if it was, she handled it gracefully.  
She knew that babysitting in order to save up for college wasn’t going to get her on his bad side. 

 

Technically, he knew that he was nowhere near ready to be back on the streets, still not fully healed from the c-section, still adjusting to the changes that childbirth had done to his body.  
(He hadn’t even known that male omegas could lactate, and while it wasn’t nearly enough to do the kid any good sometimes when she was making those pitiful, hungry wails then he’d find his chest… wet. And it _hurt_.)  
Hell, worrying about how the baby was doing with the babysitter was a big enough distraction to put him off his game so he knew full well that he shouldn’t be out yet but he could at least put in a few hours, beat the fear of god into a few idiots and announce his presence back in town, then go back home to finish making out a new game plan. 

That said, the adrenalin rush of knocking someone out with one good hit was satisfying in a way that he’d _missed_. 

What was slightly less satisfying was being tagged by someone less than an hour into his night. 

 

He let the flicker of blue tail him for an additional hour and a half before finally giving in, stopping to lean against the wall of a pathetically decrepit warehouse as he waited for the other to finally approach. 

“I know you’re there, numbskull” he called, a little bit more breathless than he would have liked and grateful for the fact that his helmet blocked his scent from tainting the air as well as it hid the exerted flush in his cheeks. 

Nightwing landed in front of him a long minute later, fingers curling slightly near his sides just in case Jason decided to attack.  
Which was not his agenda that night but still a fairly good call on his part.  
Jason didn’t particularly like being trailed.

Most nights he would have been far more annoyed about it, but.  
Not when he felt so tired after the small amount of work he’d gotten done thus far, not when the healing incision on his abdomen ached with every breath of air he drew in. 

If he was being honest, he didn’t really mind the backup right then.

“Evening, Hood,” Nightwing said with a nod and a small smile “you were gone for a while” inquisitive but not as pushy as sometimes.  
He could deal with that. 

Jason shrugged “I went out of town” he answered as casually as he could manage, crossing his arms in front of him. 

He sensed more than saw the subtle tilt of the other’s head, the critical sweep of sharp eyes “you’re moving like you’re hurt” Dick said, taking a step forward. 

Jason laughed, biting back a wince because _fuck_ that hurt and shrugged, biting back with “aw, getting all mushy and worried over little old me? I’m flattered” Pointing at his face for emphasis and biting back a laugh at the exasperated, amused set of Dick’s mouth.

That head tilt was definitely the calculated narrowing of eyes, another sweep of critical blue “do you need help?” The tone was edging on worried and Jason rolled his eyes in response, even knowing that the other couldn’t see it.

“Always so eager to rush in and save the day” he muttered, knowing that the other would hear it “no,” he continued in louder voice “it’s nothing I can’t handle” which, well. The case he’d left town on had been easy. 

He wasn’t entirely sure that he was cut out for single-parenthood, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell _Nightwing_ that.  
Not yet, anyway.

Jason snorted at the thought, shaking his head “Anyway,” he said, straightening up “if you’ve completed your obligated health check-in, perhaps you could stop wasting my time” he let a bit of a sneer into his tone, watching the line of Dick’s jaw tense with bitten back words. 

They had years worth of conversations that they’d never spoken out loud.

 

He walked away, turning the corner before the other could think of anything else to stop him for because even with the helmet, he was too tired to keep the bravado up and Dick wasn’t stupid enough to miss that if it happened, which would lead to nagging and random visits during the day and… Introducing him to the kid. 

It would be a sweet gesture, honestly, if he wasn’t trying his damnedest to keep the situation under wraps until he knew what to do about it.

 

Thankfully, he didn’t catch anyone tailing him for the rest of the night and by the time he stopped to pick up the kid, it was almost four in the morning and he’d at least reminded the streets of his presence.  
It wasn’t much, but he didn’t care.

How the hell he got back to his apartment without waking the baby more than once or twice, or why she only responded with a few minutes of tired whimpering as he tried to shush her before drifting off again, he had no idea, but he was thankful for the silence as he stripped and rinsed off the grime of a long night before crawling onto the mattress, the exhaustion overwhelming the aches and pains and dragging him to sleep faster than he remembered drifting off in a long time.


	3. Baby I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick knew that something was up with Jason, but judging from how the other had been gone for so long and how standoffish he was when Dick tried to talk to him, it was going to take a while for him to figure out what was going on.
> 
> Dick's POV

If Dick was being honest, it had taken him more than a week to realize exactly why his nights had seemed so quiet lately—despite how busy they’d been—and another few days to reluctantly admit why it was that he noticed Jason’s absence at all. 

~

The line snapped tight under his hands, a faint tingle spreading across his palms that would have been the hot sting of friction burns if he hadn’t been wearing his gloves as he leapt out into the open air.   
Gotham bit a sweet, cool breeze against his cheeks as he flew.  
It wasn’t true flight, not really, but it could surely feel like it if you did it the right way. 

He gave in to the gut-deep impulse to close his eyes, leaning into the curve and bracing for the harsh impact of coming back down to earth.   
He tumbled onto the roof, ignoring the dull pain in the points where his body met the ground first and rolling into a purely unnecessary handspring to get back onto his feet. 

It wasn’t like there was anyone around to see him. 

There almost never was anymore.

He sighed, trying to rub away the ache that had been building up in his shoulders all night and absently scanning the streets down below him for disturbances. 

It was the first slow night he’d had in days, but it wasn’t really making him feel any better; the distant sounds of city traffic filling the edges of his awareness like static, keeping him on high alert because for all that the night air was loud, it felt too quiet, and it was setting his teeth on edge. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t know why it felt that way; he was at least honest enough to realize that the silence was him waiting for that rough laugh and the tantalizing hint of dampened omega scent, the venomous (joking) dig about his actions or movements, making fun of anything and everything about him.  
It wasn’t like he had any right to be missing them—him—but he couldn’t help noticing Jason’s absence. 

He wasn’t going to admit to himself that he knew precisely why he was noticing it all so acutely. He wasn’t stupid; he was self-aware enough to recognize the pattern here. But you could know full well how attracted you were to someone without quite managing to admit it to yourself; once you admitted it, it became real and things changed. Your interactions with them were altered.

He didn’t think that he could really afford that. 

He’d only really gotten Jason back recently; he wasn’t about to scare him away again with threats of _feelings_.

His gaze drifted over to the flash of a police car going by, shaking him out of his thoughts, and he took off running again. 

Just because he could waste all night lost in thought, that didn’t mean that he should leave Gotham to fend for herself.  
She’d never been very good at that.

Then again, none of them really were.

~

He told himself that he hadn’t been dipping through Red Hood territory recently just on the chance of running into him, because he wasn’t. He just… wound up there most nights. For some reason.

If he was, then it was just to check up on him, to make sure that he was doing all right, not—not because he actually really enjoyed watching Jason work: the way that he moved, quick and brutal, always taut and ready to strike; blunt and observant in a way that Dick found himself admiring. 

So, it wasn’t really because he liked making him laugh, liked coaxing out instances of that sly, self-depreciating humor Jason had.

 

~

So he started keeping an eye out for him because he was concerned; what if something had happened to him and they didn’t know about it? He’d hate himself if he’d noticed Jason’s absence and hadn’t checked up on him and then it turned out that something bad had happened. But… there really wasn’t anything to find. 

He’d checked and double checked and went to Jason’s safe houses and apartment, and then eavesdropped on some of the area’s big names to listen for whispers of something happening, perched in old rafters in effort to hear words that weren’t coming, there was nothing there. A few confessions of guilt for old crimes, but nothing about Jason outside of the usual bitching about his interference with their operations. It was all just… quiet.

~

At the one month mark, he gave in and asked Barbara about Jason’s absence, unwilling to drag Bruce into it without reasonable cause, given that his relationship with Jason was still very much on shaky grounds and Bruce’s methods tended to be very… persistent, when it came to family. 

 

Babs, after he spent an exhilarating twenty minutes slipping around the clock tower’s security to get to her, laughed at him. Of course she did, but only a little bit. 

“You could have just called and asked me in the first place,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him. “It's not like he was keeping it a secret; he’s out of town.” 

Dick frowned, folding his arms across the back of her chair, careful not to push her forward into the desk. “But for this long? Are you sure that nothing happened?”   
She tipped her head back to meet his eyes as she reassured him. “Yes,” she said, “he’s in Chicago. I’m guessing that his case is running longer than he thought it would; he cancelled his ticket back.” 

Dick frowned. “Wait, he cancelled his ticket?” he asked.   
Barbara nodded, looking back at the screen. “Yeah, he did. He wouldn’t have had the chance to do that if something had happened.” 

He sighed, slowly letting himself relax. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, point taken. I was overreacting; he’s probably fine.” 

“Probably,” Barbara agreed, lips quirking. “You want me to keep an eye on him for you, maybe let you know when he gets back?” she asked.   
Dick shook his head. “No, it’s fine,” he told her, ignoring her knowing look. 

He wasn’t going overboard; it was a legitimate concern! He just… couldn’t stop worrying about him. 

It was his job to track everyone down once in a while to make sure that they weren’t in over their heads, because every single one of his siblings – not to mention Bruce - was the type to try to shoulder all of their problems and not ask for help, no matter how desperately it might be needed. 

They were his family; he was allowed to try and take care of them. 

Even when they didn’t want him to.

~

He’d thought about not going into Jason’s territory that night, just to make a point to himself that he could resist the urge, but with Jason out of town, it would make more sense for him to comb through it a bit to make sure that nothing happened. 

It was the right thing to do when one of them wasn’t available; you took over their sector for the night, if you could. 

 ~

He ran his fingers through his hair, more as an absent habit than any actual effort to flatten the windswept strands, knowing full well that he was just smearing more dust and grime through it, which was a problem that he was going to have to deal with later.  
But that was later.   
This was now, and no matter how he divided it, there was no way that he could cover both his and Jason’s area’s efficiently, not all in one night. 

He could skim over it on his route, but a thorough patrol was out of the question. 

Which he wasn’t going to let himself feel guilty over, because no matter how much he could get done, he couldn’t do everything.   
He wasn’t Superman or the Flash; there was only so much ground that he could feasibly cover. 

 

So maybe he wound up skimming a little bit more than he really had the time for, sort of half taking over Jason’s area while he was gone, doing as much as he could without neglecting his own work. 

And maybe over the next few weeks it turned into a habit to stay out a little bit later than he usually did to make sure that he had the chance to get to everything, and even though he didn’t really talk about doing it all, it wasn’t like it was a secret or anything. 

~

He had caught the pointed, sidelong glance that Tim sent his way when he trailed in after dawn. The teen curled up in a chair with a mug of what Dick was choosing to believe was a soothing herbal tea blend instead of the black coffee that it probably was, and was going over some files that Dick couldn’t see the labels of, but that were covered in the neat lines of post-it notes that Tim wound up using to mark things when he didn’t feel like putting the effort in for a more elaborate system. 

Dick stifled a yawn against the back of his hand, already starting to tug at his costume and trailing gloves and boots across the floor as he made his way to the showers, more intent on scrubbing the dirt out of his scalp than interpreting Tim’s quieter methods of communication. 

They could talk after he managed to get clean.

He moved on autopilot through his post-patrol routine, the muscle memory instilled by more years than he’d ever really bothered to count, giving him the chance to think it all over a little bit more.

It was just—he wasn’t trying to be invasive; he wasn’t trying to make himself a bigger part of Jason’s life than the other wanted him to be, and he definitely wasn’t maybe-sort-of trying to show him that he could take care of him, even when he wasn’t there, because that was an outdated alpha/omega courting thing and stupid in so many ways.   
Anyway, Jason would laugh in his face for doing something like that. 

He wasn’t trying to pursue Jason romantically, because Jason trusted him as a sibling, trusted him to have platonic feelings and not take advantage of their relationship like that. 

He didn’t want to uproot what they had, because it was good enough for him just to get the chance to see him sometimes.

He was just… worried about him. That was all.

~

He finished showering as quickly as he could, changing into some loose sleep pants and a faded Superman teeshirt, one of the many Superman-themed items that he always made sure to leave at the mansion, partially because he considered Clark a friend and liked to support him, but largely because of the exasperated look that Bruce always got when he wore them around him. 

The stone floor was cold against his bare feet as he stepped back into the cave’s main area, unsurprised to find Tim situated exactly how he’d left him.

The teen gave him a more annoyed version of the look he’d had earlier when Dick leaned over his shoulder to get a look at what he was doing, gaze skimming across the careful spread of notes.   
“Are you this thorough with your homework?” he teased, ruffling the boy’s hair and snagging one of the post-it-covered documents to look at more closely while Tim scowled at him, cheeks flushing.   
“Of course I’m thorough,” he said, as if the idea of anything else was ridiculous.   
Which, for Tim, was kind of par for the course. 

If he was being honest, Dick didn’t really know what to do with a teenager who worked under the same analytical principles as Bruce.  
He understood it, to an extent. Hell, he still strived to reach the level of organization and discipline that Bruce held around himself just as visibly as his cape, and he had even more back when he’d still been Robin. 

So he knew why Tim was trying so hard, but it was always a little bit startling to realize that it was really just how Tim’s mind worked.

“So,” he started, flipping up one of the notes that Tim has labeled as ‘Probable Suspect’ to see the photo underneath, “are you actually planning on getting any sleep before school?” 

The teen had already gone back to carefully scanning the papers spread out in front of him. He glanced at him and frowned, his eyes narrowing a little bit as he said, “it’s the weekend,” before turning back again. 

Dick paused, going back through the week in his head and counting out the days to find that, yes, it was. 

“Wait,” he said, “so this is the part where you’re going to tell me that you’re planning on using the free time to cash in some sleep debts and not to go over cold cases, right?”   
Tim blinked at him, taking a slow sip from his mug and keeping his expression carefully neutral. 

Dick sighed, setting the papers back down on the desk so that he could throw his hands up in the air dramatically. “I am surrounded by workaholics,” he complained, catching the amused glint in sharp blue eyes before Tim spoke. “You were out later than I was,” he pointed out, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dick shrugged. “True, but at least I plan on going to sleep now that I’m done,” he shot back, getting a slightly bigger smile for his trouble. “Speaking of,” he said, stifling a yawn, “I’m going to bed; remember not to stay awake for longer than twenty-four hours in one stint, and I’ll see you when I’m less exhausted from patrol.” He turned away, giving up the fight a lot more easily than usual, because getting Tim to go to bed like a normal human being was always a fight, and Dick needed to go before he started falling asleep standing up.

If his balance wasn’t quite as good as it was then he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from tripping over his own feet when Tim called, “and I’m sure that Jason appreciates it!” after him, his tone far too amused.   
Which was just uncalled for; Dick wasn’t being that obvious. 

~

Thankfully, Barbara didn’t tease him too much when he wound up badgering her about whether or not she knew for sure that Jason was all right. 

She just rolled her eyes and did the double checks he wanted and told him that if Jason wanted Dick’s help, he would ask for it himself. Which he wouldn’t, but Dick understood what she meant. 

He could have tracked Jason down himself, but wouldn’t that be too much of an invasion of privacy? And he knew that pushing Jason too far with something like that was a one-way ticket to Someplace You Did Not Want To Be. 

So he’d just… wait. Wait and check on Jason when he got back to make sure that he was okay, because while he didn’t want to be pushy, there were only so many reasons why someone would be gone for more than a month without any word as to why.

 

~

 

He found Jason purely by accident, a glimpse of red in one of the alleyways he passed over making him double back to make sure that he hadn’t been mistaken. 

He couldn’t tell exactly what Jason was doing or where he was going, but his movements were stiff, muscles tense as he scowled and scanned the area around him, searching for something, probably a fight.   
Not his first of the night if the dark stains on his gloves were to be believed, barely visible in the flickering streetlights.

Dick could hear the frustrated noise that the other let out, even from his perch on the shadowed roof, could practically see the bared teeth that Jason directed at the blameless brick wall, the helmet not really doing much to mask his emotions. 

Then again, Dick had long experience at figuring out how to read Jason, to read people in general, so maybe it was him more than it was the mask.

He leaned down over the ledge to get a better look, narrowing his eyes as Jason paused to lean against the wall, an arm absently curling around his abdomen before he seemed to realize what he was doing and jerked back upright, muttering something too low for Dick to hear before turning and storming out towards the street, picking up a silent black and blue tail as he went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get some stuff in from Dick's point of view, so there might be a few installments from his side, it's not going to switch perspectives all the time though. 
> 
> Beta'd by 13thMuse


	4. Hey Baby (Drop It To The Floor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Theoretically,” Jason said, “this would be easier if I had something to dangle over your face to distract you.”
> 
> Part 1 of a 2 part chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took longer to finish than I had intended.
> 
> Beta'd by 13thMuse

Jason snapped awake, halfway upright before he realized what had startled him. 

He groaned, sinking back against the mattress and rolling onto his side to face the child as she sniffled pathetically and waved her arms, feet kicking in time, her comically wide grey eyes locking onto him as soon as he came into her range of sight and staring up at him, still fussing. 

“Ssh,” he murmured, reaching over to cup a hand around the side of her head and smoothing a thumb across her forehead, making her blink. Her expression scrunched up as she turned her face away, whining piteously. 

“You’re okay,” Jason said, his voice soft. “What do you need, huh?” He asked. “You hungry, need a diaper change, or are you just talking?” She whimpered, flailing her limbs feebly. It was one of the former; he could tell by the tone.

He sighed, rubbing her head one last time before moving to get up, making quiet, soothing noises when the baby’s cries started to get louder as soon as he left her line of sight. “I’m still here,” he told her, “but I can’t magically summon the diaper bag out of nowhere.” It would be a hell of a lot easier if he could, but unfortunately, he needed to get up and move in order to get anything done.

He kept talking while he moved around, snagging the changing mat from beside the bed and trying to remember if he’d put any fresh bottles in the fridge before he’d gone to sleep. Not that the talking actually made her cry any less, but he’d read that it helped.

She squirmed, wailing as he knelt on the edge of the bed to reach for her and carefully cradled her head as he moved her onto the mat.  
She did her damned best to tie her limbs in knots as he tugged open her onesie, moving as if her bones were made out of literal rubber. “Theoretically,” he said, “this would be easier if I had something to dangle over your face to distract you.”  He winced as she shrieked, and tugged the soiled diaper out from under her and set it off to the side to dispose of.

She screamed when he cleaned her off, face wet and bright red, squirming so much that it took him three or four tries to get the new diaper on and her outfit snapped back in place. 

Her cries slowly tapered off after he picked her up; she sniffled into his shoulder as he bounced carefully on the balls of his feet, cradling the back of her head to keep her from jostling too much. “Shush, c’mon now,” he said quietly, “you’re alright, see? No harm done to you or me.” He moved his hand from her head to grab the dirty diaper and wipes from the edge of the pad, wrinkling his nose at the smell and starting out into the hall, keeping a small bounce in his step on his way to the kitchen.

He dropped everything in the kitchen trash, not including the baby, debating if he should set her down somewhere on the counter to wash his hands or if he didn’t actually care that much.  
Ultimately, the fear of her rolling off onto the floor kept him from trying it, and he’d scrubbed his hands with baby wipes, so germs weren’t that big of a deal, right?

“I have no idea what I’m doing” he told her, pulling open the fridge. He let out a sigh of relief when he found a bottle on the top shelf, sealed tightly and far away from the dubious takeout containers that he wasn’t sure he actually remembered getting but was afraid to touch. 

The sparse shelves were reminding him that he needed to go shopping, which was yet another task on the endlessly growing to-do list.  
He growled, snagging the bottle and closing the door a little bit more roughly than he should have, making the baby whine and start to fuss again.  
He sighed, forcing himself to relax and shushing her quietly.

He set the bottle on the counter, one-handedly taking the top off and pushing it into the microwave, stopping to check it every once in a while and dipping his pinkie finger through the top to gauge the temperature until it was warm enough. 

She was still fussing when he tried to offer it to her, eyes clenched shut as she turned her face away, almost managing to pitch herself over backwards with her squirming, tipping dangerously until he managed to catch her again, his heart pounding as he let out the choked breath that he’d been holding “ _Jesus Christ_ ,” he said, putting the bottle down so that he could secure her properly with both hands. “Jesus fuck, never do that again,” he snapped, louder than he’d meant to, and she started openly crying again, high pitched wails that grated harshly on his ears. “Oh god,” he murmured, rocking her carefully “I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have shouted.” She screamed louder. “You just… scared me. God, you always scare me.” 

If he had any attention to spare, he might have wondered if the tight feeling in his chest was the reason why Bruce had always gotten that pinched look on his face when Robin (Jason, or any of them) recklessly chased a criminal to the end of the rooftops, scattering loose shingles like playing cards in their wake, slipping on the turns and walking away with skinned knees and elbows, mere scratches compared to what would have happened if they’d missed a single step, reduced to another blood spatter across the Gotham pavement. 

But he wasn’t thinking about that. 

It took an hour before she would settle down again, an agonizing hour of careful bouncing, talking (pleading) and eventually singing, which always managed to get her attention, before finally she calmed down enough to take the (re)reheated bottle, which was good because the amount of hydration that she appeared to have lost through tears was starting to become concerning. 

~

“I think I’d have rather accidentally wound up with a cat or something,” he grumbled, sprawled tiredly on the couch while she flailed on top of a blanket on the floor; he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted the bare carpet not to be harmfully dirty. Her small fingers tried to close around the ragged threads coming off of the cuffs of his pants as she gurgled.  
“I feel like I’m going to step on you,” he said, staring down at her without actually moving.  
And if he continued to not move, then he would definitely not step on her. 

…That wasn’t going to be a good long-term plan. 

She squeaked, waving her limbs and trying helplessly to lift her head up to get a better look at what she was grabbing, blinking slowly and opening her mouth wide as she squeaked again.  
That was the only way he could think to describe it; it was a tiny, high-pitched sound that lasted for approximately one and a half seconds before cutting off. And it seemed to be a sound of... Contentment? He was pretty sure it was.  
It was different from the shrill sound she made when she started to scream after she was already out of breath, a harsh, winded sound before she sucked in another breath to cry again.  
No, the squeak was an intentional, pleased sound. It was just… His kid squeaked. 

“What is wrong with you?” He asked her, not entirely sure what he was feeling but deciding that it was some sort of disgust. “You’re not Talia’s kid,” he said, bracing his elbows on his knees to make it easier to gaze down at her. “I’m pretty sure that no one in the Al Ghul bloodline has ever squeaked in their entire damn lives.” 

That said, he could remember her _other_ parental candidate making quiet, pleased sounds sometimes but he _wasn’t thinking about that_. 

He was almost entirely sure that there was going to turn out to be an entirely different, really fucking weird explanation for how his—THE—kid came to be. 

She squeaked again, kicking her legs happily. 

Magic; it was probably magic.  
That happened sometimes, right? Right. 

He put his head in his hands, trying to push the thoughts away, because fretting wasn’t going to get him fucking anywhere; he focused instead on the quiet baby noises and small tugs at the cuff of his pants.  
There wasn’t anything else that he could do. Panicking wasn’t going to help him figure things out.

The only problem was that he couldn’t think things through to try and figure them out without panicking. 

The best he could do was to just take care of her and deal with everything else later. A lot later. 

~

“Alright; come on,” Jason said, scooping the baby up carefully and getting a displeased whine for his troubles.  
He shushed her. “What, you thought you got to live on the blanket forever?” He asked her, lips quirking as she fussed at him. “I know, I know,” he said, carefully rocking her, “I just exist to suck the fun out of everything.” Her face was scrunched as she let out another displeased whine before blinking her eyes open again, her noises trailing off as she stared up at him, waving her arms and settling into his hold. “See?” He said quietly, “who said I couldn’t fucking parent.” Technically, no one had, but still. 

It felt like the sort of thing that people would assume he couldn’t do, childcare, which was a fucking weird thing to assume about somebody. 

He didn’t blame them, but it was still weird.  
He didn’t even know why he was thinking about it.

“So,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward, readjusting his hold on the baby. “Errands, how do you feel about them?” She stared up at him blankly in response.  
He sighed “…Yeah, I know,” he said, “but they’re necessary, and since I legally cannot leave you here alone—not that I would, mind you—you are obligated to come with me.” She blinked; he felt like an idiot. “Basically, we’re going out: do me a favor and try not to draw too much attention to yourself.” Because that was the last thing he needed.


	5. Baby, What a Big Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason frowned, muttering under his breath as the baby sucked on his hand, debating if fresh fruit was really a necessity or if he could get away with skipping over it.
> 
> Continuation of the previous chapter.  
> Otherwise known as 'the boring errands chapter that nobody wanted'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not entirely happy with this, so it might be changed later, but I felt bad for not putting it up last weekend like I promised to do...
> 
> Beta'd by 13thMuse

Jason set her down on the bed for a moment so he could grab the sling from the closet he’d flung it into after its last use.  
He still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it; it was convenient, but he always worried that she’d find a way to roll out of it, even knowing that it was really very improbable. 

He pulled it on, ignoring the truly horrendous floral print as he adjusted the fabric to make sure that it wasn’t twisted strangely before picking the baby up again to settle her into it. He watched her sniffle and squirm as the fabric curled around her, pulling a tiny hand against her mouth and staring up at him with wide grey eyes as he moved to grab his jacket, stopping to snag a wad of cash from the dresser, because while he did take money from Bruce—the man owed him that much at least, so Jason didn't mind taking advantage of it—he wasn’t sure whether any of his purchases would be directly incriminating, and he didn't want Bruce getting suspicious.  
Just because Bruce _said_ that he wouldn’t track his purchases, that wasn’t any guarantee that he didn’t do it anyway.  
So buying baby formula on his previous-sort-of-adoptive-father’s dime wasn’t something that was in his best interest. 

~

It was mid-afternoon, which was ‘prime shopping time’ as he recalled from back when he was a kid and tagging along on grocery runs for the manor had been an interesting way to waste time on days without school, or earlier, back in the very beginning when being able to go to the grocery at all had been a startling privilege. 

One that did not go under appreciated.

Mid-afternoon was good because it fell in nicely before the dinner rush, but it wasn't ridiculously early either. 

Not all that much traffic, if you were driving, which he was not.  
Although, there wasn’t too much foot traffic either, which was more convenient for him. 

The baby stayed mostly quiet on the way there, gurgling quietly in the sling unless there was a particularly loud noise, in which case she’d fuss for a minute before settling back down, evidently deciding that pitching another full blown hissy fit was too much effort for her at the moment.  
It was an unexpected blessing, considering. 

He knew that babies, especially the younger ones, communicated almost entirely by screaming, but that didn't mean it didn't get on his last goddamn nerve sometimes. 

He scowled, tugging his jacket a little bit closer around himself, trying to make sure that the baby could still breathe and wasn't getting crushed but also trying to cover her up in effort to dissuade the judgmental stares that he was getting from passers-by because it was none of their goddamn business. 

There weren’t that many people on the street, but it seemed that only really meant they had more attention to spare for things out of the ordinary. Namely him.  
Of course, Gotham’s citizens could be exceedingly skilled at ignoring strange occurrences, except for young people with kids, apparently.  
Because you could gossip about that, no problem.

They weren’t nearly so talkative when it came to seeing things like dirty cops or drug deals, but teen pregnancies, that was something that got their disgusted looks. 

_That_ was what got them talking. 

Always the things that were of absolutely no interest to him; never any fucking help at all.

But it wasn't like he had strong opinions on that topic or anything. 

~

The store was refreshingly cool in comparison to the humid summer air outside, and slightly less judgmental. 

After a moment of debate, he grabbed a basket, even though it would be more difficult to carry; he didn’t really need all that much. 

For a little while, it seemed like she’d fallen asleep, sniffling quietly but staying mostly still as he shopped.  
It lasted until about half way through the store, and then she started to squirm impatiently until he payed attention to her, uncovering her and wiggling his fingers in at her distractedly. She gave a little squeak as she knocked her hands against his fingers, trying to pull them into her mouth as he scanned the produce in front of him, purposefully ignoring the other shoppers nearby. 

He frowned, muttering under his breath as the baby sucked on his hand, debating if fresh fruit was really a necessity or if he could get away with skipping over it. 

He sighed, scowling at the shelves and wondering why the hell he suddenly had to be a responsible adult, because it was something that he had abso-fucking-lutely no idea how to do. Hell, he hadn't even finished high school, without a whole hell of a lot of parental figures either. Bruce had tried, but he also actively encouraged all of his kids to kick people in the face.  
Which, admittedly, Jason took great enjoyment in, but it sure as hell hadn’t taught him what foods he was supposed to eat after a pregnancy.

He knew explicitly about the cravings and health shit for pregnancy, but afterwards? He had no fucking clue. Maybe there wasn't actually anything about that.

Then again, he was staring at cabbage, which he really didn’t need nor want.  
He had to pull his—now damp—hand away from the baby's mouth to run his fingers through his hair in aggravation, grimacing and pushing his bangs out of his face, spitting out a few choice words when the baby started fussing at the loss of her entertainment. 

“Maybe next time,” Jason startled when the dry voice sounded from a little ways behind him, “it would be advisable to bring along a toy which is not directly attached to your body.” He turned, careful to keep from jostling the kid too much, because if there was one way to get her to escalate from fussing to screaming, it was moving her around too quickly. 

Then Jason’s eyes widened, lips parting as he took a step back, reaching frantically for words that weren’t fucking coming and debating if running was a valid option.  
If he just bolted, he’d probably be able to get away, but getting away from the current situation wouldn’t save him from later ones. It would just make the later ones worse. Far, far worse. 

The older man was watching him with familiar cool blue eyes, stepping away from a half full shopping cart and raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him, still speaking calmly “It would reduce the fussing considerably.”

“Alfred!” Jason squeaked, clearing his throat before hesitantly offering, “I… can explain?” Flushing and resisting the urge to look away or scuff his boot on the floor like a reprimanded middle-schooler.  
Because he wasn’t. 

He was a fucking adult, he wasn’t going to let himself feel guilty for the things that weren’t his fault. Like… babies.  
Babies were not his fucking fault. 

He broke eye contact when said baby fussed again, forcing himself to breathe and dropping the basket carefully on the ground—there were eggs in there!— holding her closer against his chest and glancing guiltily towards the other man. “I’m… not gonna say that she’s not mine,” he said hesitantly, lifting her up out of the sling so that he could see her properly, and instead just winding up with his index finger being pulled into her mouth again, which made the fussing die down as she got her favorite toy back. 

He saw the older man's small smile, flushing darker and biting his tongue to keep back his default snappish reply. “I… don’t actually know how this happened,” he muttered, getting a bland look in return.  
“I would assume that you know the usual process by which things like this occur,” Alfred said, stepping closer.  
Jason rolled his eyes. “No shit, Alfie” he snapped, resisting the urge to bite his tongue again as the curse words slipped out.  
He always felt guilty for cussing in front of Alfred, even if he didn’t want to.

“I mean,” he tried again, “that’s not how this happened. I don’t… She’s mine, but I don’t know where the hell this all came from.” He barreled ahead without waiting for a reply. “No one knows and they need to keep on not knowing because you know how badly Bruce would react…” He bit his lip, trailing off, hating the fact that he was shaking. “Please, Alfred.” The older man rested a hand on his shoulder, expression gentle. “I do understand,” he said, and Jason gave him a small, tired smile. “I don't agree with your decision to take on this responsibility alone, but I can respect your need for privacy.” Jason’s breath left him in a rush, leaning in to the touch and whispering, “thanks,” as the baby squeaked quietly between them, tiny hands batting against Jason’s wrist.  
“That said, should you require assistance, have no doubts that I, or any, would do so gladly.” Jason scoffed quietly, pulling himself together because if he fell apart it was not going to be pretty, and they were in a public grocery store goddammit. 

“I’m fine,” he said, because he was, he was completely and totally fine with no need for help whatsoever. Even from Alfred. 

Goddammit, he shouldn’t be having feelings about this, Alfred was never surprised by any of the shit that went down; of course he knew what to say. 

And Jason trusted him to not tell anyone, not unless he needed to.  
He remembered that much at least; Bruce had never found out about the things that Jason had told him, because, while Bruce had known about the little stashes of things that Jason had hidden throughout the manner like bird nests, nonperishables and water bottles and warm clothes, he hadn’t figured out that they were just as much for in case he needed to get out, if things went south with Bruce and he needed to drop everything and bolt, as they were just because he could; he had enough that he could have multiples of things.  
Food hoarding was a thing, okay? And it was easier to grab a blanket or sweater that was already there when he got cold, rather than automatically telling himself to suck it up, because going to his room to grab something warmer was effort and would take enough time for him to feel self-conscious about it, so if he didn't already have something there, he wouldn't bother.  
And he was done with being too cold when he didn't have to be. 

And Alfred knew the day that his dad had left, which was stupid and Jason hadn't meant to tell him but he’d accidentally called Bruce his dad and then everything had been too much, so two weeks later, when that date around, he hadn't known what to do with himself except try not to snap by growling at everyone else, getting grounded from patrol and hiding in his room as he’d tried to figure out what the hell he was doing and what he was supposed to be feeling, there had been Alfred with hot chocolate and that calm, nonjudgmental gaze and Jason had spilled everything to him.

Bruce hadn’t found out, Jason hadn’t wanted him to and he'd made damn sure that there wasn't any surveillance in his room, so the only way would have been Alfred, but he hadn't told him.

So he trusted someone that much at least. 

“I should go,” he said, and he was not overwhelmed, goddammit, he was just… facing his adoptive father’s butler in the middle of the produce section while his kid drenched his entire hand with saliva.  
That would put anyone at least a little bit on edge. 

Alfred gave him another small smile, stepping back respectfully. “May I suggest the kale or spinach, for greens,” he said, making Jason blink in confusion. “Oranges and bananas as well. Nuts and green tea are also helpful, although I may suggest that you stay away from chamomile for a little while.” Jason stared at him blankly. “I should go,” he said, and he was not overwhelmed, goddammit, he was just… facing his adoptive father’s butler in the middle of the produce section while his kid drenched his entire hand with saliva. “Thanks?” He said uncertainly, bending down to grab his basket again as the tension finally eased into a mild sort of embarrassment.

~

He didn’t pay much attention through the rest of the store, replaying the scene over in his head and wondering what the hell his life had turned into.

And he really didn’t mind when a casserole dish appeared on his doorstep later that evening, because cooking, while something he could do, was not something that he’d had the energy for lately. 

‘Parental support’ maybe that was what that felt like.


	6. Don't Cry Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dick frowned. “You seem different,” he said, ignoring the question and reaching out to touch Jason’s shoulder, gloved fingers squeezing lightly. “Are you okay? You look skinnier than usual.” Jason snorted in surprise. “Really?” he said, mouth moving before his brain did. “Somehow I doubt that.” Childbirth was many things, but it was definitely not slimming."

Jason didn’t go out that night. He was exhausted and still sore from the previous night’s scuffles, and he wasn’t stupid; he knew that he needed to take everything at least a little bit more slowly than he had been.   
It was definitely a balancing act, trying to keep both the baby and the city safe without letting the cat out of the bag… He started to tense up just thinking about it. Honestly, it was exhausting. 

He sighed, debating smushing his face in one of the pillows, but deciding that it was too much effort for the amount of energy that he had; if he did it, he wouldn’t move again, and he _liked_ being able to breathe. 

So he curled up on his side instead, propping himself up on his elbow for a moment to check, and double check, that the baby was sleeping soundly before daring to close his eyes, relaxing slowly into the mattress and shoving the worries away. 

The next nap time was ‘stress and figure shit out’ time; this time was for catching a few minutes of sleep. 

Not that he was succeeding very well, because there were so many things that he should be doing instead, even if he knew that trying to do everything on no sleep was a terrible mistake. Which was why he was trying to do it in the first place.  
It was… a circular process. A less than productive one.   
Maybe… maybe he should take Alfred up on his offer of help. At least a little bit.  
Just… advice, or something, because Alfred knew fucking everything (and yes, he knew how stupidly improbable that sounded, but he’d managed to be convinced of it more times than he could count over the years) and he didn’t know if he wanted to ask for _help_ per se, but… talking to him couldn’t hurt.  
Jason wanted to do what was best for the kid, and seeing how he wasn’t actually sure what the hell he was doing, Alfred seemed like a good idea.  
Maybe.  
He wasn’t committing to the idea yet.

He groaned, reaching up to press the heels of his hands against his eyelids, then letting out a slow breath and sitting up. Lying there fidgeting wasn’t going to do anything. 

He glanced over at the kid again as he slid out of bed, checking that she was still sleeping soundly, (which, of course, she was) before padding across the floor, bare feet quiet on the faded carpet. 

He pushed the window open carefully, the wood sliding smoothly under his hands until he could slip out onto the fire escape. 

He shivered a little bit as the cool air tugged at his clothes, pushing his hair into his face as he turned away from it and the breeze slowly faded back into a sort of sticky, warm humidity. 

He left the window open so that he’d be able to hear the baby if she woke up and climbed out to sit on the rusted metal steps, breathing in the thick air and leaning back on his hands to stare up at the smoggy, starless sky.

It was difficult to say whether he preferred the vast, clear skies that he’d seen in his times out of the city, or the half-masked skies near the Wayne mansion, where you could make out the constellations and Venus shone brightly in the sky, but off in the distance you could still see the way that the city lights reflected off of the thick clouds that clung to the tops of the buildings and stained the sky a sort of sick yellow-orange.   
It was ugly, disgustingly so; a visual reminder of the city’s decay.  
But it was familiar.

It was the sky he’d seen every evening when he was a child, so it was always the one he came back to.   
At that point ‘preference’ wasn’t really a fair question anymore.

He sighed, letting his eyes close and just breathing in the fresh air. It would all be so much easier if he had a long-term game plan; some sort of goal besides ‘stay alive’ to work towards, but hell if he knew where to start with that.   
He _wanted_ the kid to grow up alright, _didn’t_ want her to grow up with the same amount of bullshit that he had, but… that didn’t really seem possible, not in Gotham. And he couldn’t just leave the city. He couldn’t… right? No. He was there for a reason; he _came back_ for a reason goddammit. 

He couldn’t just walk away from that. 

But hell, staying meant that she was at risk.   
Hell, he never knew for sure that he was going to make it home in the morning, so what fucking right did he have to keep her waiting for him anyway? Shit. 

He could… He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, blowing out a shaky breath.  
He could give her up for adoption, send her somewhere less… Intense. 

Central City wasn’t as bad as Gotham; hell, Metropolis had more property damage than actual casualties from its criminals.   
The blond girl, Stephanie, had done that, from what he’d heard; said that she wasn’t ready and made sure that it got a good home.

Diana probably wouldn’t turn her away.

It was just… He couldn’t do it.   
He didn’t even want to think about it.

Which was stupid and selfish and how the hell was he already so attached to it? …her. The infant child which he had in his possession.

He laughed tiredly, dropping his hands back down to the rusted metal and wondering when the earth had decided to spin out from underneath his feet. 

Then again, it could just be that someone else was on his fire escape. 

He looked down, scanning the distant sidewalk through the metal, squinting suspiciously. It was clear. 

He looked up and froze.

“Hi.” Jason blinked at the dark figure clinging to the metal a level above him, carefully keeping himself from reacting and doing something stupid like glancing towards the window to see if anything was visible through it. Like, say, the baby.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, glaring and biting back the string of curses behind his teeth. He got to his feet and crossed his arms to keep from fidgeting as the blue and black figure swung down the rest of the way, landing with a quiet thud in front of the omega. 

Jason bared his teeth, waiting for the other to explain his presence so he could send him the fuck away. 

Nightwing shifted, looking uncomfortable under his harsh gaze, leaning back against the railing and clearing his throat. “I was…” He paused, tilting his head as he looked at Jason, who bristled, snapping “what?” in effort to get him to stop noticing whatever it was that he was noticing; he was not prepared for this, and therefore ‘this’ needed to stop before it went wrong.

“Catwoman,” Dick said after a moment, shaking his head a little bit as if to clear it. “Babs called me because I was closer, B got there first anyway, I… saw you on my way back and thought I’d stop by.” Jason didn’t believe him. 

“Why are you really here?” He insisted, hands clenching by his sides.   
He couldn’t believe that the other’s presence was just a coincidence.   
That meant that someone knew something and he needed to know how much _Dick_ knew. 

Dick frowned. “You seem different,” he said, ignoring the question and reaching out to touch Jason’s shoulder, gloved fingers squeezing lightly. “Are you okay? You look skinnier than usual.” Jason snorted in surprise. “Really?” he said, mouth moving before his brain did. “Somehow I doubt that.” Childbirth was many things, but it was definitely not slimming. 

He shook his head, knocking Dick’s curious hands away and scowling in annoyance when the other didn’t budge, his brows furrowed worriedly.

“What?” Jason sighed, finally relenting and backing out of Dick’s space—it wasn’t like he felt intimidated by Jason anyway—leaning against the wall next to the window and wondering if he could manage to shut the curtains without looking suspicious. He doubted it.  
“What the hell do you want?” He asked, watching warily as Dick opened his mouth, pausing carefully to consider his words before speaking.   
Jason waited, gesturing impatiently for him to get on with it.

Dick took in a careful breath, swallowing and finally murmuring “I… You… I guess I just haven’t been around you when you aren’t wearing blockers recently, but your scent seems…” he paused, frowning. “…off. Not… in a bad way? Just… different than I remember.”

Jason hissed, tensing and resisting the urge to smell himself and find out exactly how much his scent gave away. “It’s your imagination, birdbrain,” he snapped automatically, flushing. “Stop sniffing me! Oh my god, you fucking weirdo,” he growled, crossing his arms self-consciously.

Dick at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said, holding his hands up in apology. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” “Damn right, pervert,” Jason muttered, glaring. 

He was starting to feel like a cat in the rain; pissed, irritable and… well, not wet certainly; that would imply something completely different. Just… tired and irritated and Jesus Christ, Dick had won the gold medal for ‘Bad Timing’ recently. 

He wouldn’t really mind seeing him and spending some time together if he didn’t always manage to show up just when Jason _really_ didn’t need him to be there. And then he had the nerve to get all offended when Jason snapped at him, and Jason refused to feel bad about it. Outright refused. 

Jason sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Okay,” he sighed, “so aside from your weird obsession with the way I smell, why are you _actually_ here?” Dick shifted, looking anywhere but directly at Jason as he said, “I just… wanted to check on you, make sure that you’re doing okay.” his voice was soft, hesitant.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Thoughtful,” he said flatly, listening for the telltale ‘I’m awake’ whine from the window, because he knew the kid’s sleep schedule well enough to realize that she’d be hungry soon. “But you’re not my fuckin’ _alpha_ , Dick, you don’t have to ‘check up’ on me so much, I’m _fine_.” Maybe if he kept saying it, he’d make himself believe it, too. 

And he was going to ignore the downright hurt expression on Dick’s face, because he needed some _space_ , goddammit. 

The kid could wake up at any goddamn moment and he was chatting with her probable baby-daddy and what the _fuck_ even was his life that that sentence described any situation he was in at all. 

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Dick said, voice strained and sounding like he actually meant it sincerely. “I shouldn’t bother you; I’m sorry.” He took a small step back and Jason didn’t feel bad. He _didn’t_. 

“Dick…” He sighed, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes for a moment. “Wait, I don’t mean…” he trailed off, because he kind of _did_ mean, just… not like that.

“Look,” he said as the other glanced back at him. “Just… call first next time, okay?” It hardly encompassed anything that he should actually be saying, but ‘no offense but leave me the hell alone’ was a bit too harsh.

And maybe it felt nice to see Dick smile in response, lips quirked as he dragged Jason into a quick hug, murmuring “I can do that,” before stepping back, smiling brightly again and darting up the fire escape to the roof because it was barely two and the night’s work was far from over, leaving Jason wondering exactly how much he’d just been played.   
Because that turnaround was way too quick for there have not been some sort of ploy going on.

He scoffed, wrinkling his nose and trying uselessly to get rid of the sweaty-alpha scent that the impromptu hug had rubbed onto him, because even if no one else would notice it, _he did_ , and it felt too much like a scent mark for him not to cringe away from it.   
Babies were very aware of scent, and if Jason showed up smelling like Dick, the kid was going to accept it as normal and that was not the sort of thing that he was trying to encourage. 

It wasn’t tempting at all. 

No.

It wasn’t like he liked the smell or anything.

Jason let out a slow breath, closing his eyes as a quiet, hungry wail threaded out through the open window. “Great,” he muttered, “your sense of bad timing is almost as good as…” He bit his lip, refusing to let himself have any debate as to how that sentence was going to end. “…as Dick’s,” _As your father’s_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by 13thMuse
> 
> Sorry this took so long! I was camping without internet most of this week >.> um, the next chapter is with my beta now and should be up in the next couple of days (another one from Dicks POV)
> 
> We have more angst ahead, but the breaking point is inching closer!! (this is far more of an angsty slow-burn than I had anticipated or intended, but hopefully you don't mind that too much)


	7. Just The Way It Is, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " “Shit,” Dick whispered, pressing a hand over his face and wondering at what point he’d managed to lose his mind. " 
> 
> Babs has her hands full, and Bruce is... Bruce, so Dick goes to Tim to talk about what's been on his mind lately.
> 
> On second thought; baby brothers aren't exactly known for being kind and subtle about those topics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings at the end

“Shit,” Dick whispered, pressing a hand over his face and wondering at what point he’d managed to lose his mind. 

What the hell had he been thinking? Of course Jason wasn’t going to be happy to see him, not if he showed up out of nowhere. Jason liked to be in control of himself and his interactions with people, especially when it comes to Bruce and the people connected to him. So if Dick appeared without warning, he took that control away and _of course_ he’d be pissed. _So what the hell had he been thinking_?  
Normally he would have known better than to do something like that.

He groaned, flopping face first onto his bed and wondering if Barbara would hang up on him if he called her for advice.  
It wasn’t like it was _relationship_ advice, because that might be awkward, but… it was sunrise; she would kick his ass if he woke her up for something so stupid; he was just being an idiot. An idiot who was quickly realizing that he was in over his head, and thinking too much about it was going make everything even more awkward than he already felt and he didn’t think he could afford that without cracking. It was as infuriating as it was embarrassing.

And, if more than once that night he found himself thinking about how _nice_ Jason had smelled, that was okay, right? It was… intrusive, but since it hadn’t distracted him from work, then it was acceptable. Probably. Not actually.  
He groaned, burying his face in the pillow and wondering if extended periods of extreme mortification had negative health consequences. ‘Pervert,’ Jason had said, and god if Dick didn’t feel like one, lusting after the guy who was supposed to be his _younger brother_. Jason didn’t even reciprocate the feelings; Dick was just creeping on him, and it was unacceptable.  
He bit his lip, burrowing deeper into the pillow. No wonder Jason kept snapping at him; he was making Jason uncomfortable, and he needed to stop. He was just really, really bad at that right now, apparently. He had no idea why Barbara hadn’t beaten the shit out of him for it yet. Or Tim, or Cass for that matter; it was obvious that they knew, because Babs knew him like the back of her hand, Tim had an unfortunate habit of stalking his family to keep up with their life events, and Cassandra’s eyes didn’t miss much of anything. 

~

“It’s because we know _you’re_ gonna beat yourself up, so _we_ don’t have to,” Tim said the next day, yawning and clutching his coffee cup to his chest as if it contained literal gold, looking like he’d just woken up even though it had to be somewhere around four. Dick had to wonder exactly how late the teen had stayed up after patrol the previous night, but he knew better than to ask. He didn’t want to know the answer. It wasn’t as though he could convince the teen to adopt healthier sleeping patterns overnight.

Barbara had waved him off the minute he’d showed up on her doorstep, taking one look at him and laughing, muttering, “I don’t have time for this,” under her breath. She’d rolled her eyes in exasperated amusement when he threw his hands up dramatically in response, a small smile tugging at her lips as she shut the door again.  
A very large part of the reason he liked her was because she refused to put up with any of his bullshit, which he admitted that he needed occasionally. That didn’t mean that he hadn’t been put out that she’d shut him down so quickly, but he respected her right to decide that she was too busy to deal with him at the moment. 

“It’s like,” Tim was saying, laying his head down on the tabletop and watching Dick go through the kitchen cupboards, his voice soft in the quiet kitchen. “I’m gonna be honest; we know you’re head over heels for him, and he’s more likely to punch you than to kiss you when he finds out. I’m kind of waiting for him to figure it out, because you’re not subtle.”  
Dick froze, up on his tiptoes with his hand stretched up into the baking cupboard, turning his head to give the teenager a shocked look.  
“No, really,” Tim continued, encouraged. “You are. I kind of thought that was why Jason left, but Barbara disagrees, so he probably doesn’t know yet.”  
Dick winced, going back to his rummaging and finally snagging a bag of chocolate chips. He closed the cupboard and took a seat across from his little brother. “Are you serious?” he asked, almost pleading. Tim just nodded in response, raising his head and taking a sip from his nearly empty cup, draining it, and pushing it towards the middle of the table and using his folded arms as a cushion for his head. “Yes,” Tim said, yawning again as he spoke, tired enough, comfortable enough, to speak his mind without conscience. “I _know_ you want to bang him.” Dick dropped the bag, spilling chocolate chips across the tabletop. “And you feel guilty about it, possibly because of that time you two did bang, which means that you’re going to beat yourself up instead of actually hitting on him.”

The acrobat gaped. “You’re kidding me,” he said, voice harsh and fists clenching on the tabletop. “We aren’t talking about that. And he was _sixteen_ , for fucks sake!”  
Tim nodded into his arms, grimacing in sympathy. “Which makes it statutory, so you can feel even more guilty about it,” he said, pausing and then adding, “did you ever actually talk to him about that after it happened?”  
Dick groaned, pushing the bag across the table and sitting next to Tim’s empty cup, putting his head in his hands. “I’m very much not comfortable with this subject; not with you,” he whined, voice muffled.  
Tim waved a hand in his vague direction. “You’re the one who wanted to talk about it” he muttered, annoyed.  
“I didn’t mean like _that_ ,” Dick wailed, pressing his palms more harshly against his eyelids. “When you say it out loud, I sound like a _monster_ ,” he squeaked, voice rising in his distress.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention before he could elaborate or work himself up further. Intentionally loud footsteps.  
They both raised their heads, Tim a bit more slowly, looking over to find Bruce standing in the kitchen doorway, his arms folded across his chest as he regarded them. His eyes were narrowed, mouth pulled tight into the expression Dick had long ago learned meant ‘I don’t know what I just walked in on but I don’t want to know unless I _absolutely have to_.’ Plausible deniability. 

“Hi Bruce,” the two boys said in unison, neither one particularly inclined to recap their conversation for him.  
He raised a dark eyebrow at them but didn’t ask, moving towards the coffeepot. Dick caught sight of the newspaper that he had tucked under his arm as he went by and realized that Tim wasn’t the only one who was starting the day late. He wondered if he’d missed something important on patrol the previous night, right up until he saw the bite mark half hidden under Bruce’s collar. A very particular mark that he’d grown to recognize over the years; it meant a spicy run in with Catwoman.  
He should have figured. Evidently he wasn’t around enough anymore to know whether Selina and Bruce were in an ‘on’ period or an ‘off’ period. He wasn’t sure whether that was bad or not because on the one hand, he really didn’t need to know anything about Bruce’s sex life, and on the other; he’d almost called Selina ‘mom’ once by accident. Admittedly, he’d been more than a little concussed at the time, but still. He usually had a better grasp on what was going on with Bruce’s personal life. Maybe that made him a bit nosy, but Bruce needed someone to knock some sense into him sometimes, before his girlfriend had to do it. Maybe all that was Tim’s job now. He honestly didn’t know; they’d never set up any sort of system. But maybe they should; Batman lived for plans and designated jobs. Although that wasn’t exactly the type of plan that he usually went for.

“I think you should talk to him,” Tim told Dick, resting his chin on his palm. “Tim _my_ ,” Dick hissed, glancing at Bruce, whose expression was very solidly set on ‘ _I do not want to know, do not have this conversation in front of me_ ’ as he poured his coffee. “I’m just saying,” Tim said, reaching back with his free arm and making grabbing motions until Bruce sighed and leaned over to refill Tim’s mug as well before putting the coffeepot back on its base. And the teen didn’t even break eye contact with Dick as he did it. Robin manipulation at its finest; Dick would be proud if he wasn’t kind of afraid of what might come out of Tim’s mouth next. 

The boy quirked an eyebrow at him, probably reading the tension on Dick’s face, and took a small sip of his new coffee.  
Bruce walked past them again, patting Tim on the shoulder as he went by and murmuring, “don’t torment your brother,” because he didn’t want to deal with the fallout.  
“Thank you!” Dick called after him, only half joking, and getting a frown from Tim. “You should though,” he insisted.  
“I… will take your opinion in to consideration,” Dick said slowly, grimacing at the thought.  
“No, you won’t,” Tim said easily, “but I forgive you”.  
Absently, Dick wondered what had happened to the quiet kid that Bruce had adopted. The one who’d been afraid to talk to him because even a conversation seemed like too much to ask for. The one who was slouched at the kitchen table, sassing him.  
That, he really _was_ proud of. That Bruce had done alright by Tim so far. Sure, he’d put him out on the streets to face off against villains like Scarecrow and Two-Face, but he’d also given him an intellectual outlet. A purpose.

Bruce had fucked up a lot of things, Dick was the first to admit to that, but he tried. He was a stubborn, genius, asshole with more heart than he ever knew what to do with, but he tried to be what they needed in his own strange way. Even when he had no fucking idea what he was doing. Like, say, with Jason. Just thinking about that was enough to give him a headache. 

He sighed, reaching for the chocolate chips again, grabbing a handful and popping them into his mouth. He paused, frowning at Tim, who was watching him contemplatively over the rim of his mug. “Aren’t you going to get in trouble with Alfred for eating those?” the boy asked, and Dick gave him a little half-shrug in response. Alfred was long used to having teenagers in his house, so he wouldn’t be too surprised by strange parts of the pantry being raided. Although, not much surprised Alfred anyway. So really it was a toss-up whether or not he’d be irritated with Dick for running off with his baking supplies, largely depending on if he’d been planning on using them or not. 

“On that note,” Dick said, jumping to his feet, “I should get going.”  
Tim smirked, eyes glinting as he waved. “Distance won’t save you!” he called after him, “you know that! _And talk to Jason_!”  
“Bye, Timmy!” Dick called over his shoulder, laughing. “Don’t melt your brain with caffeine!” He caught Tim’s quiet laugh and half-hearted, “coward!” as he made his way out of the manor, his step a little bit lighter than it had been on the way in. Even though that conversation hadn’t been nearly as subtle as he’d been hoping for, at least someone had been honest with him.  
Really, he needed to just get ahold of himself, tamp down on the turmoil and forget that anything had ever happened.  
It was for the best. There was no chance in hell that Jason wanted him, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for talk of previous underage and the implied pseudo-incest that goes with this pairing.
> 
> Believe it or not, this is the subtle version of that conversation. The working title for this chapter was 'Oh Shit I Fucked Up'
> 
> So, umm... Sorry to the person I accidentally lied to by saying that this would be up soon... two weeks ago? >.> Life happened. But! There's no more camping, so I have more time to write now. Still tho, really sorry.
> 
> Beta'd by 13thMuse


	8. Talking About My Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect, the first thing out of his mouth probably shouldn’t have been, “so you’re a girl, right?” when he showed up unannounced on Barbara’s doorstep, but thankfully, she didn’t comment on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by 13thMuse

The next morning went a lot more smoothly for Jason, which was a relief.  
He woke up before the baby did, taking the time to watch her sleep. Stroking his fingers across her dark, peach-fuzz hair and tracing the curl of her small hands. Grinning as she shifted, tiny nose wrinkling as her hands twitched, trying to shoo away the nuisance without having to wake up. He moved away, sitting up and running his fingers through his hair to get it out of his face.  
He left her to sleep as he went to do the morning chores, starting some water to boil to sterilize the bottles, because he honestly didn't trust the decrepit dishwasher that had come with the apartment. He went to shave while it heated, because the ancient stove would take at least ten minutes to warm the pot, and no matter how curious the baby got about the texture of scruff, he felt like it was too rough against her soft skin. So if he didn't shave, he’d feel bad putting his face anywhere near her, which was… kind of stupid. So he shaved.  
When he was finished--clean-shaven for the first time in days, and the bottles good enough that he could put together the day’s formula--he checked back up on her, drying his hands on a frayed dish towel as he leaned over the edge of the bed, and was surprised to find her awake. Grey eyes blinked as he came close enough for her to see him, taking in a small, open mouthed breath to catch his scent. It was one of the things that he hadn't been expecting, although he should have. Babies didn't have terribly good eyesight, so there was a lot of scenting and mouthing that went on, helping her learn about the world.  
She squeaked quietly, waving chubby limbs and waiting impatiently for him to pick her up. He laughed. “What, you’ve been waiting for me this whole time?” he asked, tossing the dishrag towards the laundry basket at the end of the bed and reaching for her, running his fingers up her sides and pressing a soft kiss against her head and breathing in her soft scent. There was something about the mix of baby powder and the lingering scent of gentle soap that made something in him preen. It was soothing, and something about it just drove home the point that she was _his_.  
“Guess what?” he said softly, cradling her against his chest, careful to grab the small, scooshy blanket that had been kicked off to the side. It had recently shown up with the food and ‘care packet’ that Alfred had snuck onto his doorstep, but she was already attached to it, whimpering and waving her hands unhappily whenever she remembered it and found that it wasn’t there. “I’ve got breakfast done for you and everything.”  
She gurgled at him.  
“Yeah,” he agreed, “exciting.” He rocked her gently as he walked, her grey eyes blinking slowly at the movement, waving pudgy limbs contentedly as they went down the hall towards the kitchen.  
He was a bit surprised when she took her bottle as easily as she’d awoken, only fussing a little bit when he pressed the nipple to her mouth, trying to spit it out before she realized that it was food and sucking on it instead. “There we go,” Jason cooed at her, and her gaze went back to him, wide hazel eyes staring up at him earnestly. He smiled softly, tipping the bottle to give her better access before a bit of milk started to drip down her cheek. He dabbed at it with the blanket, realizing that it was a futile effort but not wanting any to wind up in her ear. “There we go, sweetheart,” he murmured again, half-sitting on the table and watching her just as intently as she was watching him.  
He stilled as she started to whine, spitting the nipple out of her mouth and turning her face away, bringing small hands up towards her face and fussing quietly. “Shh,” Jason soothed, setting the bottle on the table and easing her up against his chest. He patted her back softly, letting her squirm and rub her face against his shoulder. He tugged the blanket back up as it started to slide down, draping the tail end over his shoulder without missing a beat and cooing again as the baby whined. “It’s okay,” he said, smoothing his hand down along her back again and shifting, hoping that the movement might settle her a little bit. He winced as she spat up on his shoulder, patting her back soothingly. “That wasn’t so bad,” he murmured, just letting himself talk. “You’re okay, baby.”  
She fussed, squirming around and pressing her face against his collarbone, pudgy fists trying to close around the smooth material of her blanket. Her fussing rose when she couldn’t manage it, and Jason bounced her lightly in consolation, getting a small sniffle and a surprising moment when she tried to pitch backwards out of his arms just by leaning her head back.  
“Jesus christ!” he yelped, kicking himself for forgetting her special trick. “Why does your skull make up half of your goddamn body weight?” he grumbled, careful to make sure that his tone didn’t have any real heat. “When does that stop being the case?” Because there were only so many heart attacks he could cope with before he started twitching every time she moved.  
She blinked, eyes wide and innocent, and gurgled up at him.  
“Shut up,” he muttered, flushing a little bit at her too-innocent stare. “You have no idea what you put me through, do you?” He sighed, bouncing her lightly as she gurgled again, pudgy hands waving impatiently. “You freak me the fuck out,” he told her, reaching for the bottle again when she huffed. “I was not planning on becoming a parent; not yet at the very least.”  
She squirmed, clenching her eyes shut and sucking the nipple into her mouth when he presented it to her. “Really,” he said, a little bit too viciously cheerful, “you should be someone else’s kid, if you wanted somebody who knows what they’re doing.” He should know what he was doing; he’d had a few months after he’d found out he was pregnant, had a couple of months since she’d been born, and he still didn’t know what the hell he was doing. The internet was unreliable, books expensive and embarrassing to walk in and buy, and he couldn’t really ask anyone… He didn’t know anyone with practical experience. Alfred, maybe, but Bruce hadn’t dealt with any of his ‘children’s’ infancies, not that Jason would go to him with this anyway; not in a million years. He’d be perfectly content for Bruce to never find out about it. Tim’s girlfriend wouldn’t know about infant care so soon after birth. Roy might, but Jason had no earthly clue where he was at the moment. The list went on.  
He paused, setting down the mostly empty bottle and readjusting his grip of the baby. It was awkward to think about, but… everyone got a lot of intel from Oracle; maybe she’d know a couple of things about this, too. At least enough to tell him if he was being a moron. He was, he knew that, but sometimes it helped to get a second opinion, so it might as well be from Barbara. Of all the people he could think of, she wasn’t the worst person he knew to go to with this.  
Also, he couldn’t quite convince himself that she really, truly, didn’t know already. She knew everything; why the hell wouldn’t she know this? And she hadn’t told anybody; if she had, than they would have already been breathing down his neck, so that meant that she wouldn’t tell anyone if he confided in her, right?

~

In retrospect, the first thing out of his mouth probably shouldn’t have been, “so you’re a girl, right?” when he showed up unannounced on Barbara’s doorstep, but thankfully, she didn’t comment on it. “I am,” she said, raising an eyebrow at the way he was huddled, jacket pulled awkwardly around himself.  
“I,” he hesitated, “look, I figure that you know already.” She watched him calmly, letting him talk himself around. “Because it’s hard as fuck to keep _anything_ from you, and this isn’t exactly a small matter, I just-“ He broke off, glancing back at her. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and Alfred knows but I don’t want to go to the-” he said, breaking off again and shifting uncomfortably, biting his lip and refusing to look directly at her.  
She took pity on him. “I know,” she said softly, holding her arms out. “Let me see her.”  
Jason hesitated, glancing around warily before carefully opening his jacket, reaching into the sling underneath. He cooed gently when the infant squirmed in his hold, getting a tiny whine of protest as he moved her, extending his arms until Barbara could take her from him, tucking the child against her chest and smiling down at her. The baby continued to fuss for a moment, squirming until Barbara got her settled, then she calmed down, staring with wide eyes at the stranger.  
“Come in,” Barbara said, her voice soft, not taking her gaze off of the child as she shifted her into a careful, one armed hold, freeing a hand so she could wheel herself back through the door, letting Jason trail behind a moment later. “So what’s her name?” she asked as the baby started suckling at her fingers, pressing her open mouth against Barbara’s fingertips and taking little huffing breaths. Scenting the stranger.  
Jason laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "See, that's one of the things I'm having trouble with," he said, shaking his head and giving a small, self deprecating smile.  
Barbara paused, her eyes slowly moving back to him. "You haven't _named_ her?" she asked, her voice sharp.  
Jason winced, pressing his palms against his eyes. "I don't fucking know what I'm doing, Barbie!" he said, his voice strained. "How am I supposed to name her when I don't even feel like I should have her in the first place?"  
Barbara's expression was cold. "Do you regret having her?" she asked, her voice carefully nonjudgmental.  
"What?" Jason asked, startled. "No!" It was vehement. "No, I don't regret _her_." He shoved his hands into his pockets, muttering towards the floor. "I just feel like, I dunno, she deserves better than me."  
Barbara's expression softened, her damp fingers petting across the baby’s soft face as she gurgled. “You’re scared,” she said, waiting for him to meet her gaze, lips quirking when he finally did. “Jason, that’s what every new parent thinks.”  
He rolled his eyes. “Not every new parent is a vigilante _zombie_ ,” he retorted, his voice sharp.  
Barbara gave him a look, cradling the baby against her chest and rubbing the infant’s back gently as she started to make quiet cooing sounds, still mouthing at whatever part of Babs she could reach, her gray eyes drifting over towards Jason every couple of minutes. “You’re not that bad,” Barbara said, her voice soft. “I know you’re anxious, but you can do this, if it’s what you want.”  
Jason sighed, tugging restlessly at the belt loops on his jeans and leaning a bit against the wall, unwilling to admit to his fatigue.  
“Is it what you want?” Barbara asked, “I know you can be a great parent, but if you don’t want to, if you’re not ready, I can help you with that.”  
Jason was shaking his head before she finished talking “I can’t,” he breathed, watching the infant as she waved chubby fingers against Barbara’s sweater. “I’ve thought about it, but I just… I can’t do it.”  
Barbara nodded, giving a small smile. “Alright,” she said, “then… can I ask? About her other parent?”  
Jason stiffened, shaking his head and glancing away. “I can’t,” he said, his voice tight. “I mean… I’d _really_ rather not.”  
Barbara sighed, nodding. “Alright,” she conceded, “I won’t pry, but I’d ask that you consider telling them.”  
Jason laughed, shaking his head again “I don’t-“ He bit his lip. “…I’ll think about it.” It wasn’t something that he wanted to do, and he wasn’t going to admit that he was afraid of what would happen if he did. So he was just saying that he didn’t want to.  
Barbara paused as something occurred to her, tilting her head and asking one last question. “…do you know who it is?” she asked, waiting to see if she got an answer.  
Jason froze, eyes darting to her and the baby, then off to the side, catching on the picture sitting on her desk for a long moment, lips parting in surprise before he dragged his gaze away, frowning at the floor instead.  


It was an old photo, taken one of the first times Batgirl and the newly minted Nightwing had gotten together; it was the only picture from the cheap disposable that hadn’t been blurry, that hadn’t gotten ruined when they’d tried to develop them by themselves. Of course it had been one of the silly ones, taken on the rooftop of Wayne Enterprises, masks discarded out of frame and sweatshirts thrown on over their suits because they were on break and it had been cold. Dick had his arm around Barbara’s shoulders, a piece of leftover glue sticking lint to his cheek as he grinned up at the camera that Barbara was holding up at arm’s length, her hair messy and her eyeliner smudged around her eyes, their cheeks flushed from cold and exhilaration. Bruce had been furious, when he’d found out. Only allowing their leftover copies of the photo because it hadn’t depicted any evidence of their nighttime aliases.  


Barbara wasn’t going to ask, but the expression on Jason’s face left her with suspicions.  
“I,” Jason stumbled over his words, flushing slightly. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I know who it is.”  
Barbara smiled, hugging the infant to her chest and finally changing the subject. "So," she said, looking him over, "what were your questions? I can't promise answers to everything, but I'll at least be able to find you accurate information."  
Jason shifted, crossing his arms and glancing towards the baby again. “I,” he hesitated, “just… the miscellaneous crap that the books don’t tell you, y’know?” He closed his eyes, tipping his head back against the wall as he thought about it. “I suppose the first question should be: how much is patrol going to fuck me up after the caesarean?”  
Barbara stared at him, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. “You shouldn’t be doing it,” she said immediately. “I don’t know the specifics of that procedure, but, as with any other invasive surgery, I’d say you want to wait at _least_ six months before considering street time.”  
Jason hummed, expression noncommittal, and Barbara bit her tongue to keep from lecturing him further. He had more questions, and she didn’t want to scare him away by jumping on him for not taking care of himself.  
Jason sighed “It’s just. Questions,” he muttered, raking his fingers through his hair, eyes automatically darting towards the child as she made a sound, shifting in Barbara’s arms and reaching towards him. He ducked in before the quiet whimper escalated to a cry, scooping the infant up against his chest and cooing softly at her as she nestled into the crook of his arm. He glanced back towards Barbara, accepting the baby’s blanket when she offered it up to him. “It’s the stupid stuff,” he said, shifting to tuck the blanket under the child’s chin. “Should I be investing in a crib or is it fine for her to sleep with me, and--” he ducked his head, feigning that he was looking at the baby instead of hiding his face to keep Barbara from seeing his flush. “…Should I still be lactating after nine weeks? and,” his voice dropped even lower, his words barely audible as he asked, “how much can I fuck up before we even reach twenty-four weeks?”  
Barbara was quiet for a minute, watching him rock the baby, murmuring soft nonsense to keep her entertained as she mouthed at the edge of her blanket until he tugged it a little bit lower across her chest. “I think-“ Barbara was cut off by a knock on the door, causing her to send it an annoyed glance, not missing the way that Jason went rigid at the sound. He glanced towards the window, already knowing that it wasn’t a viable option; not in his current condition. Not with the baby.  
“I’ve got it.” Barbara sighed, turning herself towards the door.  
“Don’t!” Jason whispered, hugging the baby closer against his chest.  
“I have to at least see who it is,” Barbara countered, waving her hand. “If I don’t answer, people have a habit of breaking in.” She rolled her eyes, wheeling towards the door “I’ll tell them to come back later; it’s fine,” she assured him, ignoring the vehement shaking of Jason’s head, trying to dissuade her without speaking loudly enough for whoever was on the other side of the door to hear him.  
Before he could figure out another way to stall her, Barbara opened the door, angling it carefully so that they wouldn’t be able to see Jason and the baby unless they got past her, but she could still see Jason out of her peripheral. She blinked, eyes widening behind her glasses, and let out an incredulous laugh. “Dick,” she said, her surprise sounding in her voice, catching sight of the way that Jason flinched and turned away, keeping the infant from being visible if Dick managed to get through the doorway. She met Dick’s eyes, watching the way that his brows furrowed in confusion at her reaction.  
“Oh my god,” she said, because she knew his nervous posture, the way his hands were tucked into his pockets, the almost sheepish way he peered at her from underneath his bangs. It was his ‘we need to talk’ stance. She couldn’t handle having to try and fix the problems of two grown men at the same time. She held her hand up to stop him when he started to speak. “Dick,” she said, half amused, half exasperated, “I really don’t have the time for this right now.”  
He tilted his head questioningly. “Babs?” he asked, “what’s wrong?” His expression shifted from confused to worried.  
She shook her head, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said, “I’m just… busy.”  
He sighed, nodding in understanding and stepping back from the doorway, giving her a teasing smile as he put his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay; I get it,” he said, earning himself an eye roll from Barbara, his smile turning soft. “I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. She’d have to call him later, see what was bugging him. But not right then. She smiled at him, giving a small wave as she pushed the door closed again.  


Then she turned back to Jason, finding he’d turned to face her again. She raised a thin eyebrow at him. “See?” she said, “no trouble.”  
He let out a shaky laugh, bouncing restlessly on his feet, the movement causing the baby to gurgle happily. “Yeah,” he said, “sure, no trouble, yeah.”  
Barbara crossed her arms. “Okay,” she said, staring him down, “Spill. What’s going on here?”  
He shook his head stubbornly, gritting his teeth and glancing away. She waited. “Fine,” he grit out, pacing on the smooth wood floor. “I can’t. I can’t have Bruce finding out.” He spat out the name, clutching the child closer against his chest. “I just can’t. You know how he gets, especially with me; I know that he’ll-“ He cut himself off, shaking his head again and falling silent. Barbara watched him, piecing together the bits of tells that she’d known him to have when he’d been Robin to figure out what it was that he wasn’t saying. It wasn’t all just anxiousness; there was fear.  
“You’re scared,” she said, watching the way that the muscles in his jaw twitched as he continued to stay quiet. “You think he’ll try to take her away.” Her chest ached at the sharp, helpless look he gave her.  
“Why wouldn’t he?” Jason whispered, letting his bangs fall into his face. “You know how he feels about--about what I do; he thinks I’m still completely pit mad.” His breath was shaky, catching in the back of his throat. “He’ll say that I’m not fit to raise a child, that what I do--what I am--is too dangerous to keep a child around, and he’ll probably be right… I just don’t know if I could honestly stop him.” His shoulders hunched forward, as if to protect himself from the vulnerability in his own voice. “If Bruce comes to take her, do I really have the right to say no?” He glanced over towards Barbara, reaching up with one hand to rub at his eyes as if tired, pretending that his fingers didn’t come away damp.  
“Jason…” Barbara sighed, leaning over to lay her hand on his arm. “You have the right to say whatever you want to; you’re her mother.” He gave a weak laugh at the term. “As long as you’re taking care of her, as long as she’s not in danger, there’s no reason for you to have to give her up if you don’t want to.”  
He nodded, pressing his lips together and swallowing quietly. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay.” He bit his lip, stroking his fingertips across his child’s soft, fine hair and pressing a gentle kiss to her nose as she turned her face towards him, sniffling curiously. “I should go,” he whispered, not making eye contact.  
Barbara looked at him, evaluating, then nodded. “You should,” she said gently. “Get her home. Call me if you have more questions and I’ll call you when I have answers.”  
He nodded, pressing a kiss against the baby’s forehead before slowly sliding his gaze back over to Barbara. He rested a hand on her shoulder, meeting her gaze for a second before looking away. “Thanks Barbie,” he said quietly, taking a small step towards the door, “for everything.”  
She smiled. “You’re welcome, Jay,” she called after him, catching the smile that crossed his lips before he turned fully towards the door, gently pushing it closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update for so long!! Life really got in the way :x but that's hopefully over with, so I can put more time into this. 
> 
> But hey, you got Barbara _and_ dramatic almost encounters, that's not a too bad consolation prize, right? :p 
> 
> (also, kudos to those who noticed that Dick and Babs' interaction was already pre-scripted in the last chapter, I left that in there just for you!)


End file.
